


Happily Ever After

by TiredBadGayWriter



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Au where Chris and Miles escape together, Blood and Injury, Depression, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nothing explicit, Please hold Chris like a baby, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, he deserves it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25858036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredBadGayWriter/pseuds/TiredBadGayWriter
Summary: When Mount Massive went up in flames, it was all one man for themselves. People would purposely leave others behind, just to escape the horrid place.But not Miles. He still had empathy in his heart, and he knew he needed help if he was going to escape this hellhole alive.
Relationships: Miles Upshur/Chris Walker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Is the Outlast fandom still even alive? Lol. ILL KEEP IT ALIVE WITH MY OWN BARE HANDS IF ITS DYING !!!!

When Mount Massive went up in flames, it was all one man for themselves. People would purposely leave others behind, just to escape the horrid place. 

But not Miles. He still had empathy in his heart, and he knew he needed help if he was going to escape this hellhole alive.

Miles knew the smell of the fire as soon as it hit his nose. He told the man nearest to him, which at the time was Chris, to quickly run. That there was a fire, and it was going to kill them all if they didn’t leave soon enough. Somehow, Miles still had some sympathy for the man; even though he was mercilessly trying to kill him mere seconds ago. 

He must have felt some sort of empathy towards the man. After all he’s been through, Miles believed he deserved better than to die in this hellhole.

But for some reason, Chris didn’t want to leave. Instead, he just wanted to say, to be left behind and suffer one of the most painful deaths a human could imagine. Miles kept on trying to persuade the large man, but nothing would work. All of his words would just go right through him.

Then everything changed when a large, wooden support beam fell from the roof, falling directly onto Miles. He got knocked out from the sudden, heavy impact, but when he came to, he found himself outside. In Chris’ arms. 

Almost all of his senses were dulled down, but even then, he could hear something. He could hear Chris, muttering to himself. Miles couldn’t make out the words, and just fell back asleep in the larger man’s arms.

When he woke back up again, he found himself in the backseat of his car. Chris was driving the vehicle, blood-soaked hands gripping the wheel. 

Miles wiped his eyes and yawned. He stretched and looked at the man in the driver's seat in fear. Mere hours ago, the man was trying to kill him. Maybe he still had the idea in mind? But everything changed when he spoke.

“Oh, you’re up.” Chris muttered. 

“Wh-where are you taking me?” Miles shakily asked.

“Far away,” Chris answered, “as far away from that hellhole as possible.”

Miles turns back to face the rear window. He can see the smoke over the hills. It’s distant. They must have been driving for a while now. 

Miles adjusts himself in his seat, “So, why did you save me? You could have just left me back there, to die. Why didn’t you?”

Chris doesn’t respond, and Miles doesn’t want to pressure him. He’s seen Chris rip the heads off of people. Who says he still wouldn’t do the same to him. 

“Hey,” Miles leans towards Chris, “Can you let me drive. I can take you back home. I know the way out of these woods.” 

Chris looks at Miles through the rearview mirror and huffs. He stops over by the road and gets out of the car. “Get up.” He commands.

Miles exits the car. Chris makes his way over to the passenger seat and sits down in the comfy, leather seat. Miles sets himself down next to Chris, buckling his seatbelt. 

God, it’s weird, having this huge mountain of muscle and fat just sitting next to you. He never expected Chris to be this kind to him. Just a few hours ago, Chris was chasing him in the harrowing halls of Mount Massive. Maybe it’s better not to ask questions, though. Maybe it’s just better to go along with Chris. He doesn’t want to risk getting killed by this mountainous, mangled man.

Miles starts up the car and begins to drive on the rocky, poor road. He takes a glance at Chris. His arms are crossed, and he’s huffing out puffs of air as if he just ran a marathon. 

Miles bites his lip, “So, where do you live?” 

Chris glares at Miles, then furrows his brow, “Nowhere, I guess.”

Miles taps on the wheel. He needs to relieve the tension, but he needs to do so without risking his life. 

“Maybe I can take you to my home. I live in a fairly nice apartment.” Miles gulps.

WHAT IS HE THINKING! He can’t just go and offer his home to a murderous man! 

Without even looking at Miles, Chris laughs, “So you’re not even going to take me to prison.”

Miles shakily questions the man, “Why would I?”

Chris raises his voice, “I RIPPED THE GODDAMN HEADS OFF OF PEOPLE! You really don’t think I belong in prison!”

Miles’ heart skips a beat, “So? You need help. Not to be confined in some prison. Hell, I probably need some therapy, too.” He lets out a fake laugh, trying to lighten the situation.

Chris balls his hands into fists, “Why the hell are you so nice, HUH?!”

“Because… it’s the right thing to do.”

Miles keeps his eyes on the road. A silence lingers for a while, the only sound audible being Chris’ heavy breathing. 

Miles’ emotions are starting to get the better of him. Everything is hitting him all at once. All the bodies he’s seen: headless torsos with mangled bodies and so, so much blood.

Miles’ grip tightens on the wheel. He bites his lip, almost drawing blood. Tears well up in the corners of his eyes, slowly trickling down his face. He sniffles.

“Damn it!” Miles smacks the wheel. He breaks down, tearing up so hard he pulls over and stops the car. 

Miles sobs as he grasps and pulls at his hair. He wishes this never happened. He wishes he never decided to be a journalist. He wishes he never took this job. He’s seen so much shit… too much shit for any normal human. 

Chris doesn’t say anything, just deciding to let the small man cry it out. He taps his foot on the floor of the car, chains clinking with every tap. But after a while, Chris gets impatient. 

Chris sighs, “Just let me take the wheel, dumbass! We’re far enough from anywhere. Just let me drive!”

Miles looks at Chris through teary eyes. His face. His face... He feels bad for him. He knows he shouldn’t, but it’s hard not to feel bad for this poor soul. Nobody deserves something that horrid to happen to them. Nobody.

Miles takes a deep breath before unbuckling his seatbelt, getting out of the driver's seat. He stumbles his way over to the passenger’s seat, watching Chris as he walks past him. 

Miles continues to sob as he sets himself down onto the seat. He leans his head on the window, letting the vibrations of the rocky road bump his head. He wipes his eyes with his bloody sleeve then looks down at his hands, or what’s left of them. 

He begins to sob harder. He just wants to fucking die. He wants to end it all. He doesn’t want to suffer, carrying the burden of seeing all those horrific things. 

He’s tempted just to unlock the door and jump out, but he knows better. He knows better than to kill himself. Or maybe it’s fear, maybe that’s what’s stopping him?

Chris tunes in on the radio to lighten the mood. Maybe that’ll help the small man take the load off? 

Miles sniffs again, wiping his face again. He looks at Chris. He knows he should be scared of the man right now, but there’s something… something comforting about having someone else with him right now. He doesn’t want to be alone, not ever again. 

Miles’ crying has calmed down now. He’s still slightly sniffling here and there, but at least he’s not pouring rivers through his eyes anymore.

Miles looks out into the woods. He watches as all the foliage passes by. He suddenly realizes.

“Uh, Chris. Where’s my camera?”

“How the hell do you know my name!?”

Shit! Miles wants to make excuses. He doesn’t want Chris knowing he read all of his files. But nothing pops up in his head, he sighs as he tells the man the truth.

“I may or may not have read some of your files. Please don’t be mad! Just know I was doing my job!”

“Oh, so you know everything.” Chris doesn’t look mad. Instead, he seems sad. Why? 

“I’m so sorry you had to go-“

“DON'T TALK ABOUT IT! I don’t want to relive that pain again. I just want to forget everything that happened there.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

The next few hours are spent in silence, with Miles completely forgetting about the camera. With it being about noon now, Miles feels his stomach grumble. He’s hungry. Good thing he remembered to keep some spare sandwiches in the glove compartment. 

He opens the compartment, and instantly, Chris yells, “FOOD?! YOU HAVE FOOD?!”

Miles is scared by the sudden loudness, but not for long.

“Yeah, I got hungry. Do you want one?”

“Of course I want one! Gimme!”

“Turkey or ham?” Miles asks.

Chris quickly takes one out of his hand, not even paying attention to which sandwich it was. He unwraps the food and then quickly takes a bite out of it. He moans, fucking MOANS, when he takes a bite.

“OH SHIT! It’s been so long since I’ve had actual food! This shit’s delicious!” 

“Well, um, I’m glad you like it.” 

Miles takes a bite from his own sandwich. Since Chris took the ham sandwich, Miles was stuck with the turkey. Not like he was mad about it; after all, he was the one who bought the sandwiches. 

Miles looks at the hulking man. For some reason, he feels calm being next to the man. Maybe it’s because he isn’t trying to brutally murder him anymore. 

Chris moans as he takes a large bite from the sandwich. Miles bets that Chris would be smiling if he could. Chris takes another, large bite. He glances over towards Miles.

“The hell are you looking at, huh? There something on my face?” 

Miles snaps out of it. Since when was he smiling. He doesn’t know.

“Nah, there’s nothing… nothing at all.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles and Chris enter a small, quiet town together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not exactly as happy as I could be with this, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! :)

They’re nearing the edge of the forest. Miles can tell. God, it feels like Miles has been in these woods for years and years. Even though it’s only been a matter of hours. 

Miles and Chris have been taking turns driving for the past hour, letting the other take small naps in short intervals. Never in his dreams, could he have imagined Chris sleeping next to him. He seems so… peaceful, almost as if he was never at Mount Massive. But reality strikes when Miles pays attention to his severe scars, he read, somewhere in a document, that they were all self-inflicted wounds due to horrific anxiety.

Miles wondered if the wounds were self-inflicted because of the horrible tests they performed on him, or if it was because of something else. Maybe even because of someone, a person, or maybe multiple people? Miles doesn’t have the guts to ask him about it, not for now at least. He’s just going to hold off on the hard hitting questions for a while. 

Miles keeps on driving in these never-ending woods until he reaches the edge. He roars at the sight, accidentally waking Chris up in the process.

“Damn it! Why are you yelling! I just,” he gasps as he looks out the window, “HOLY SHIT! WE’RE FREE!”

“Not exactly. We still have a little bit more until we reach actual civilization.”

Chris groans, “UGH! I’m tired of driving! I want to sleep in an actual fucking bed!”

“I know, I know, just hang on tight. We’ll be there in the blink of an eye.”

Chris folds his arms, just like a young, aggravated child, furrowing his brow. Wow, Miles thinks to himself, for being an actual killing machine, he acts just like a child. Miles chuckles at the thought.

Chris speaks up, “Alright, I’m going back to bed.”

Miles stops him, “Wait! I have something I need to talk to you about.”

Chris groans again, “Fine, but make it quick! I’m tired.”

Miles continues, mentally preparing himself for his next few words, “It’s about… your face.” 

Chris roars, “What! You got something wrong with it!?” 

“No! No! It’s just that if we go in public, some people may be… scared of your face.” 

Chris pulls down the front mirror and looks at his face, “Humph, fair enough.”

“We need to get you something to cover your face with before people see you. Because if they see your… wounds, they might just call the police, and we don’t want Murkoff finding us anytime soon, got it?” 

There’s a long pause before Miles speaks again, “and speaking of your face.” Chris shoots his eyes at Miles. “Does it, um, hurt. I bet it does.”

Chris looks back at the road ahead, “Not really. It stopped hurting after a while. I guess I got used to it.”

Miles diverts his attention back to the road, and by sensing the sour smell of the atmosphere, he keeps quiet. Maybe it’s best to just let him rest for now.

“Okay, Chris, since you’re soooo tired, I’m going to stop nagging and let you sleep.”

Chris leans back in his seat, quickly shutting his eyes and murmuring a “thank you.”

Miles looks at the broken man. Wow, he thinks to himself, and to think that just a few hours ago, he was trying to kill me, and now he’s thanking me. Miles grins as he lets the other sleep, only paying attention to the road now. 

As he drives, he can hear Chris’ soft snores. Wow, asleep already, huh. Although he can’t blame him. He must have been up for hours on end in that place, barely getting any time to rest.

Miles keeps on driving until he sees that it’s Chris’ turn to drive. But he looks at the hulking, peaceful man, and he decides to let him rest a little longer. Miles isn’t even that tired anyway.

Miles keeps driving until he sees something in the distance. A building, no wait! Multiple buildings! A town! Hell yes! He excitedly wakes Chris up. Chris wipes his eyes and yawns, “What’s going on?” he says, already irritated.

Miles taps on his shoulder, “LOOK!”

Chris looks up ahead the road, before smiling , or what Miles assumes to be smiling, “Hell yeah! We made it!”

Chris roars in excitement, nearly shaking each window with the burly vibrations. 

“Jesus, Chris, calm down. We still have a long way to go before we reach home, and I mean a looong way to go.”

Chris still couldn’t contain his excitement. He couldn’t stop shuffling in his seat, almost like a child. 

“Okay, so I have a plan. I’m quickly going to go to a rest stop and wash off all the blood on my hands. I’ll also get some snacks when I’m there. Then, I’ll go out and get some clothes for us, and then a mask on for you. Then we’ll rent out a room in a motel, or something, then we can get fixed up there. That okay with you?”

Chris frantically nods his head, and Miles swears he can almost see tears in the man’s dull, grey eyes. 

Miles mutters to himself, “and I need to find a pharmacy for some medical supplies. Hmmmm.”

Miles drives around the town, searching for any stores. He doesn’t find many, only a second-hand store, a pharmacy, and a gas station , but he figures it’ll do. 

Miles first stops at the pharmacy, since they need the medical supplies as soon as possible. Miles puts on a set of gloves to conceal his bloody, mangled hands and walks into the building. As soon as he steps into the building, he feels like he’s in a whole other world. Everyone is so… normal. They don’t even know the shit that’s happening just a few hours away. They have no idea. When he walks further into the building, everyone’s eyes drift over towards him. 

Yeah, he guesses, I probably smell like shit: like blood, guts, and piss.

Miles mentally slaps himself in the face and focuses back onto his mission. He searches an isle that luckily has everything they need: waterproof bandages, disinfectant, cleaning wipes, a face mask, and gauze.

Miles walks up to the counter, trying not to attract any attention to himself, takes the wallet in his back pocket and pays for the items. When he walks out of the building, he looks into the car and gives Chris a small, nervous smile. 

Miles steps into the vehicle, tossing the bought items in the backseat. 

“Alright, now time for some clothes. Speaking of clothes, what size do you wear.”

Chris shys away from Miles’ gaze, “I’m a triple X.” 

Miles thinks about the reports on Chris that he’s read. His weight always has been a sensitive thing for him. He’s always hated his own skin. That’s why he basically clawed his own face off, he despises himself. 

Miles makes a mental note of not to bring it back up again.

Miles starts up the car and begins driving to the nearest possible clothing store, a second-hand store. He strolls out of the car and into the store. When he enters the small building, he’s bombarded with an old, pungent smell. Miles ignores the smell and moves over towards the clothing. 

He searches for his own clothes first, since his size is probably easier to find. He looks around until he finds a nice jean jacket, black shirt, and a pair of black jeans. 

He looks for Chris’ stuff next. Miles browses around the larger section of the store, until he finds what he needs: a large, puffy sweatshirt, some baggy jeans, and an extra large black undershirt.

With everything Miles needs, he checks up back at the register, checking out all of the items. And thanks to being a second-hand store, the clothes only cost a bit more than twenty dollars.

Miles walks back to the vehicle, clothes piled up in his arms. He opens the door to the backseat and sets them next to the medical supplies. He then gets into the driver’s seat. 

“What’d you get?” Chris asks.

“You’ll see.” Miles says back, adding a little, sly smirk.

Now, it’s time for the gas station. Miles drives up to the nearest station, a 711. He stops at the 6th station for gas. Before heading out, he asks Chris what he wants for a snack, and Chris answers with some kind of chocolate bar Miles has never heard of before.

He steps out of the vehicle and strolls over to the gas pump. He fills it until the car’s full, leading for it to cost about twenty dollars. 

He puts the pump back and walks into the station. He’s greeted by the nice cashier. He gives her a little hand wave before heading towards the snacks. He finds himself a small bag of pretzels and Chris’ chocolate. He also gets a few bottles of water; they need something to drink after all. He’s about to go to the cashier and check out until he spots something in the corner of his eye. Sandwiches. He takes a few for him and Chris, not caring about the types of meat. 

Miles walks up to the register and lays the products onto the counter. The cashier quickly checks out the items and asks if they got gas. Miles says he got some at the 6th station. 

The cashier gives him his total and Miles pays with cash, upfront. He strolls back to the car and opens the front door, sitting next to Chris. 

“So I got some more sandwiches, and, of course, I didn’t forget your chocolate.” Miles hands the bar over towards Chris, and Chris needily grasps at the bar. He quickly takes a bite, savoring the flavor. He “smiles” as he quickly gobbles up the rest of the bar. Miles smirks at the sight of the towering man getting happy over a tiny thing, like a chocolate bar.

Miles gently sets the rest of the food in the backseat, quickly driving off to find the motel. 

He finds an average-looking motel and decides that this is the place. Miles pulls up in the parking lot and takes off inside to get themselves a room. Once inside, a nice, old woman greets him at the front desk. Miles gives her an enthusiastic “Hello!” before asking about the rooms.

“You know, we usually never get anyone wanting a room at this time.”

Miles chuckles, “Yeah, I know. It’s just that this road trip has been taking longer than expected, and we just want a room to relax in for the rest of the day.” 

The old woman smiles, “so… who’s the lucky lady, hmmm?”

Miles blushes, “Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend, sorry for the misunderstanding.”

The small woman gives him another, fake smile before looking at their lists of rooms, “Well then, since you're the only ones staying here, you can choose any room you like.”

Miles chooses a room with two queens. The old woman places the key, reading 101, into his hand, and Miles walks out of the lobby. He opens the back door of his car and takes the supplies in his hands, “Come on, Chris, lets go.”

Chris looks around outside, checking for any incoming cars or people. Once the coast is clear, Chris quickly rushes out of the car, following Miles. 

Miles searches around for the room, muttering the room numbers to himself all the while. Once he finds the room, he quickly unlocks the door and lets Chris go in first.

When Miles walks into the room, he’s bombarded by an awful smell, “Well, it’s something…” 

Miles checks his surroundings for something to set their supplies on. He finds a small table with two chairs. He gently sets them on the table before hearing Chris yell, “Holy shit! They have a TV!” 

Wow, Miles never thought that a TV could be so impactful on anybody, but he guesses that after so long of not having any entertainment, anything could spark joy in one's heart.

“So, let's take care of our wounds before we take a shower. You’ll go first since your wounds are more… evident.” 

Chris gives a little humph before sitting down on one of the beds. Miles takes out the bandages, disinfectant, and gauze and immediately gets to work on Chris.

First, he decides to take care of the heavy chains on his arms and legs. He slowly unwraps them from his body, hearing the occasional hiss from Chris. The chains were so tight they basically cut deep into his skin. Once Miles is done with taking them off, he takes a small wipe and douses it with the disinfectant. 

“Okay, now this is gonna hurt, and I’m sorry.” 

Miles quickly takes the wipe over Chris’s wounds, making Chris yelp in pain every second. Chris balls his fists into the bed, practically tearing the sheets under him. 

“Okay… we’re done with one,” Miles says as he wraps up the wound with the gauze and bandages. “Time for the next one.”

The next few minutes for Chris were brutal. You’d be surprised someone wasn’t getting brutally murdered in their room with the amount of screaming. 

When Miles reaches Chris’ arms he notices something. There are many small, thin horizontal scars littering his large forearms. Miles doesn’t pay any mind to them though, moving that thought into the back of his mind. 

He continues healing Chris’ wounds until he thinks he’s done. Then he realizes. His face. He needs to take off the restraints holding his face apart. 

Miles kneels behind Chris, “I’m sorry, but I think this is going to hurt way worse.”

Chris takes a deep breath before Miles starts meddling with the restraints. It’s very hard to take them out; they’ve practically merged in with his skin. But he eventually finds the lock holding them together. He swiftly takes them off, and Chris is finally free to move his mouth around, even if he did tear off his own lips.

“Now this is the hard part. Please don’t be mad if I hurt you.”

Miles shuffles off the bed and stands in front of Chris. He takes the wipe in hand and gently places it on Chris’ mouth. Chris roars in pain while Miles gently shushes him. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Chris is fully clean and disinfected. Now, it’s Miles’ turn.

Miles takes off the gloves from his hands and takes a wipe in his hands, but Chris stops him. 

“Here, I’ll do it.” he says, making a slightly poor attempt of showing empathy.

“Heh, thanks.”

Chris takes the other glove off of his hand and begins working. He starts off with the left hand, gently wiping the space where a finger should be. 

Miles twitches and winces in pain, almost kicking Chris in the gut. But he survives, he’s been through worse.

Chris takes the bandages and gauze and covers his hands, now setting to work on the other. Chris does the exact same to the other before leaning back and relishing in his job well done. 

Miles looks up to the larger man and says, “Can I take the shower first?”

Chris sighs, “go ahead.”

“Thanks, I promise I’ll repay you. Got it?” He says as he takes his articles of clothing.

“Oh please, you’ve already done enough,” Chris quietly mutters. 

Miles smiles at Chris as he walks into the bathroom. He quickly gets undressed and looks at himself in the mirror. He looks… older. In just a few hours, it seems like he’s aged for fifty, long years. His eyes have bags now, and he has wrinkles lining his face that weren’t there before. 

Miles snaps out of it and turns on the shower. He waits for the water to heat up, letting his mind wander. He’s tired. Very tired. He just wants to be home.

He checks for the temperature of the water, and once it’s ready, he hops on in. The shower head isn’t very good, with rust lining the edges. To be fair, the motel isn’t the nicest in the first place, but he guesses it could be worse; he could be back at Mount Massive. 

Miles washes the blood off of his body and hair. He’s surprised no one called the police on him with the large amounts of blood on him. 

He takes the shampoo and scrubs it into his hair, letting it soak in. He washes it off, then commences to wash his body with some little soap bars he found earlier in a cabinet. 

He relishes in the warm feeling, the water trickling down and onto his body. He starts crying, or he assumes he’s crying, he doesn’t know. The tears are mixing in with the many droplets of water. 

He thinks. He thinks of all the shit he’s seen. He just wants to erase it all from his memory. He just wants to die. He just wants to take a blade to his wrists and end it all. 

He’s uncontrollably sobbing now, sitting in the shower bed. He rocks back and forth, trying to forget. To forget it all. But every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is blood. Blood everywhere. Miles leans his head on the wall, curling up into a ball.

He just wants to forget.


End file.
